


When Life Hands You Lemons...

by elderkevinmckinley



Category: The Book of Mormon - Ambiguous Fandom, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, Kevin Price is an entrepreneur, Lemons, Lots and lots of lemons, M/M, Prompt Fill, Secret Crush, Slice of Life, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-16 06:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14806457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elderkevinmckinley/pseuds/elderkevinmckinley
Summary: Whether Connor wants to admit it to himself or not, Elder Price often ends up being right about a lot of things. Too many things. Things he has no business being right about. Mainly because the things Kevin usually ends up being right about are the ones Connor McKinley had initially dismissed. And that irks Connor. A lot.(Or: all the Elders are broke, Kevin's a genius and there are just alotof lemons.)





	When Life Hands You Lemons...

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this in response to a prompt from @altheaselmaisadoradarsey on Tumblr (@elderkevinmckinley) but it turned into something long enough that I thought I'd share on AO3 in its own fic.

Whether Connor wants to admit it to himself or not, Elder Price often ends up being right about a lot of things. _Too_ many things. Things he has no business being right about. Mainly because the things he usually ends up being right about are the ones Connor McKinley had initially dismissed. And that irks Connor. A lot. Because it happens like that, every _single_ time. First, it was convincing everyone to stay in Uganda, despite completely failing as Mormon missionaries—by far, Kevin’s most idiotic and simultaneously _spectacular_ demonstration of this anomaly to date. Then it was setting James and Chris up on a double date, only to “conveniently forget” to invite the two girls. Needless to say, _that_ one certainly worked out just fine.

Lately though, it’s just been this blasted lemonade scheme of his.

It all started about a week ago, when Kevin had gotten wind of the fact that Gotswana has lemons—more specifically, a lemon _tree_ —in his backyard. Now, it’s all he can seem to think about.

“I mean, it just boggles the mind how many possibilities there are,” he enthuses to the group as he shovels a big bite of yam into his mouth as though it were something delicious like candy or popcorn. Oh, how Connor would _kill_ for candy or popcorn right about now. And, as usual, no one answers Elder Price, though a few eye rolls can be seen throughout the room.

They’re all just sitting around together, eating what could only be loosely defined as “dinner” (read: scrappy leftovers consisting of stale bread, overcooked yams, dry caribou meat and cloudy water) over the pitiful little table that sits in their living room. Connor’s half-heartedly picking at overdone caribou and Arnold doesn’t seem very interested in his plate of watery yams. Good food has been a scarce commodity these days. They’d officially stopped receiving any money or support from the Church about three months ago. Since then, they’d managed to burn through most of their reserve funds, too. Between building the new school and the theater and the playground—well, they’d all just kind of forgotten about the fact that they also needed to _eat_. They’ll never be able to stay here and help the villagers if they can't even afford to keep food on the table. To try and raise some money, they’ve all been trying out various money-making ideas—most of which just end up giving them sore muscles, mental scars and no more money in their pockets than they had before.

But, in Kevin’s mind, the answer remains obvious: _lemons_.

“The possibilities are _endless_ ,” Kevin says again, after being met with nothing but murmured groans and half-hearted nods (and some profanities thrown in, for good measure). Everyone is just so _tired_ these days. Tired of not having good food to eat. Tired of not having hot water for more than ten minutes at a time. But, mostly, everyone is just tired of _Kevin_. After all, it’s Kevin Price’s fault they’re all in this situation to begin with—on their own, with no support whatsoever. Sure, they can go home any time they want. They all have tickets, after all. But they don’t _want_ to go home. Believe it or not, they actually _like_ it here, in spite of everything. They want to stay.

“Okay, but just think about it for a minute,” Kevin says to the group, not relenting on the lemon thing at _all_. “We could make lemon scones, lemon cookies, lemon wafers, lemon _drops_. Not to mention, uh.. duh, _lemonade_. I mean, that’s a no brainer right there. It’s hot as Hell here. Lemonade tastes good. I mean, who wouldn’t want a refreshing glass of iced cold lemonade from a group of nice missionaries? I really don’t see the downside here, guys.”

“We have no sugar,” Connor says simply, squashing his idea in one fell swoop. “That means no scones, no cookies, no wafers, no lemon drops,” he trails off, gesturing limply with his hand. “Need I go on?”

“Okay, sooo… we’ll just concentrate on the lemonade then. For now, at least,” Kevin says confidently with that big smile of his in full form. He doesn’t seem to notice that nobody else is smiling. That, or he just doesn’t care.

“Have you ever actually _had_ sugar-free lemonade?” James pipes in with a scowl. “It tastes disgusting.”

“Alright, so the no sugar thing is a bit of a setback,” Kevin admits, acknowledging the flaw in his otherwise ingenious plan. “We’ll just market it as _tangy_ and water it down a little,” he says, grinning stupid and proud at his quick thinking. “See? Same difference.”

”Fine,” Connor relents with a sigh. He’s done fighting with Kevin about the lemons. If Kevin wants lemons, he can have lemons. No one else seems to be coming up with any other clever ideas for how to raise money, so they might as well give Kevin's the old college try. “But you’re the one who’s going over to Gotswana’s and asking if we can have the lemon tree.”

“Do you really think he’ll say yes?”

“No,” Connor says as he bites down on a hard piece of stale loaf bread. “But I’ll go with you for moral support,” he adds with a cheeky little smirk as he scrapes the last bit of food off his plate with the hunk of bread. _Scraps_. That’s all they have these days. _Scraps_.

“Aw, you'd do that for me, McKinley?” Kevin asks sweetly, and he’s grinning that big, stupid Kevin Price smile, the one that Connor has to admit is the most wonderful smile he’s ever seen in his life. It’s irritating, sure, but also magnificent. That’s how Connor often finds himself describing Kevin Price these days—irritating, and, yet, somehow magnificent.

“Not for _you_ ,” Connor says. “I’m just tagging along to witness all those hopes and dreams of yours get crushed by the harsh reality of this cruel, cruel world.” Upon seeing the put-upon look on Kevin's face, he rolls his eyes. “I'm only _kidding_ , Elder Price,” he says, but then thinks about it for a moment. “Kind of.”

“I can be pretty persuasive when I want to be, you know,” Kevin says, his eyes sparkling with a fondness for Connor. And whenever Kevin’s eyes sparkle like that, Connor starts to _feel_ things. And he doesn’t _want_ to _feel_ things because he knows Kevin doesn’t feel those things for him. It’s a lose-lose situation and he has to keep reminding himself to _stop_ … _feeling_ those things...for Kevin. Because Kevin _isn’t_ gay. He definitely isn’t gay. And even if he _is_ gay, there’s no way in Hell he’d ever like… _Connor_ , not like that, so there’s no point in even daydreaming about it or hoping for it or...

“So, what are you gonna offer him for the lemons?” Connor asks, just because he’s curious. “Because if it’s the last of the flour, I already traded that for soap last week.”

“Hmmm,” Kevin scratches his chin pensively, as though Connor’s question had actually given him a great deal to consider. “I don’t know yet. But I’ll think of something. Don’t worry, I won’t let you down, Elder McKinley. I got this.”

Connor isn’t worried. If anything, he’s intrigued. And a little bit nervous, if only because Kevin has a tendency to do things a bit too brash and bold, for Connor’s taste, and with a lot of untamed gusto. “Go big or go home”, he always says, whenever the other Elders tell him “Kevin, _no_ ”.

Connor may or may not secretly think that trait of Kevin's is impossibly attractive, in the worst, _best_ possible way. And maybe, one day, he’ll tell him just that. 

 

* * *

 

A day passes and Kevin gets up the nerve to go ask Gotswana if they can have the lemons in exchange for medical supplies. The doctor agrees, overjoyed at the prospect of getting American medical supplies to work with. When it turns out they’re fresh out of medical supplies, however, Kevin goes back again and, instead, offers him a ten percent cut in whatever profits they make from their lemonade sales.

Gotswana thinks it’s a fucking _shitty_ deal, however, and demands at least _thirty_ percent. Connor just stands there, watching on as the two men argue over profit margins and valuation like they're on a goddamn episode of _Shark Tank_ or something, but, like, without all the money or nice clothes or interesting ideas.

“Listen to me, white boy. These are _my_ lemons,” the doctor says firmly, arms folded across his chest, trying to appear more alpha male than he actually is. “My tree. My lemons. And without my lemons, you don’t have _shit_.”

“True,” Kevin agrees, “but the _lemonade_ stand is _our_ idea. The people don’t want plain old lemons. They want _lemonade_ —iced cold, refreshing lemonade. Tangy for now, but possibly sweet down the line if this thing takes off and we can afford to buy sugar again.” He play-punches Gotswana in the arm. “Now do we have a deal or not?”

“You make shitty deal, I don't give you lemons. No lemons, no lemonade,” Gotswana shakes his head, “No lemonade, no stand. See where I'm going here?”

“Sure, but, that's a simplistic way of looking at this—”

“No. It's thirty percent or no deal,” the other man says, not backing down.

Begrudgingly and with an actual _growl,_ Kevin finally relents and reluctantly agrees to chuck thirty percent of their lemonade profits to Gotswana, in exchange for unrestricted access to the lemon tree.

“Told you so,” Connor says to Kevin as they trudge back home from the doctor’s hut—the brunette's usual prideful smile totally deflated.

And Connor thinks he looks ridiculously cute like that—adorable, even—all put out and annoyed and damp hair flopping in his face.

 

* * *

 

After many long days (and nights) spent working, picking the right lemons and getting the stand built, the big day finally arrives—the day they’re finally going to open their little lemonade stand to the public.

Connor thinks that Kevin is _way_ too excited about it and he isn't quite sure about the name either: “Price’s Perfect(ly tangy) Lemonade”. It’s rather cringe-y and makes Connor’s eyes roll every time he thinks about it. But, despite all that, Connor actually finds himself smiling quite a bit the morning of the big event. Maybe he's even almost as excited as Kevin, not that he’ll ever admit it.

Life in Uganda simply amazes Connor sometimes. _Especially_ in times like these, when they find themselves doing something that anyone back home would think was positively _insane_. This entire lemonade stand thing would have never occurred had they been going about their daily lives back in the states. Because in America, something as silly and childlike as a lemonade stand is strictly reserved for children. But _here_ , in this tiny village of Kitguli, it’s the difference between eating cold yams for dinner five days in a row or enjoying an actual _sandwich._ With _meat._ Caribou meat, sure, but still _meat._ A lemonade stand _means_ something here, in a way it never could back home. And once again, Connor is reminded of the fact that Kevin Price is often right about too many things. He might tell him that, one day. But, not today.

Days pass by after the grand opening event and the lemonade stand actually ends up working out pretty well. It keeps everyone busy and they've actually been making a decent amount of money, enough to splurge on a few nice meals at the market, at least.

Kevin makes everyone work the stand. No one is exempt--not if they want to eat meals funded from the profits. He’s even drawn up a _schedule_ for the group. Connor doesn’t want to admit it, but it reminds him or something he might do. Kevin Price - ever the corny, ridiculous optimist - even has a catchphrase—yes, a _catchphrase_.

“When life hands you lemons,” Kevin prods to the group with a big, dopey grin on his face whenever something goes awry or someone cuts themselves peeling lemons or they have a shitty sales day. “What do you do?”

“Make lemonade,” they all groan in unison, sick and tired of Kevin and his stupid lemonade obsession and his stupid catchphrase. But it works—all of it, it works like a goddamn charm, and Connor is honestly impressed.

“Lemonade! Get your lemonade! Only fifty cents!” The group of Elders stand outside, day in and day out, calling out to passerbys. Some stop what they’re doing to check out the stand. Most don't.

“Remember—Price’s lemonade is _extra_ tangy, so don't say I didn't warn you, okay, kid?” Kevin says with a big grin as he hands the plastic cup to a young child. “That'll be fifty cents, please.”

The kid splutters the drink all over himself upon tasting the sour liquid. Kevin and Connor exchange a _look._ Kevin’s is unadulterated amusement. Connor’s is _I told you so_.

“This tastes like _shit_ ,” the child says, handing the cup back to Kevin.

“Not shit. _Tangy_ ,” Kevin corrects him. He hands the kid his fifty cents back. Then, much to Connor's surprise, the brunette hops around to the front of the stand and kneels down, so he's eye-to-eye with the kid. He then pulls something out of his pocket, careful to conceal it so only the kid can see. “If I give this to you, you have to _promise_ me that you won’t tell anyone about it, okay?” Price asks the child with a devilish grin on his face. Connor is more than a little intrigued. He leans over the counter of their rickety little stand so he can see better. “Eh, eh,” Kevin says to the kid as he holds up the object too high for the boy to reach. “ _And_ you have to promise me that you won't go around the village calling my lemonade shit,” he smirked, making the little boy smile. “It's bad for business.”

“I promise!” The kid shouts happily before greedily snatching the item out of Kevin's hand and scampering off.

When Kevin stands back up and takes his place back behind the stand, he finds Connor staring at him curiously.

“What was that all about?” Connor says, pointing in the general direction of the boy.

Kevin shrugs, as though it was nothing. “It was nothing. Don't worry about it.”

“That kid looked awfully happy about _nothing_ then,” Connor says, bravely bumping his shoulder into Kevin’s. “Come on, tell me. I’m bored to tears standing here. I could use some hot village gossip.”

“Me giving a Reese's cup to some little kid is hot village gossip now?” Kevin laughs in that way he does. “Things must be worse off around here than I thought.”

Connor’s eyes widen. “You were able to buy _candy_?” He gasps. “ _How_? We haven't even made enough off the lemonade to start buying bread again and you're buying _candy_?”

Kevin’s cheeks flush a bright red and he looks awfully guilty all of a sudden.

“Kevin,” Connor warns with narrowed eyes. “What did you do?”

“Okay, so maybe I've been… dipping into the cash register from time to time,” he says quickly before holding up a hand to stop Connor from yelling at him. “ _But_ any money I take out _always_ goes back into the business. Like... buying out these kids who want to trash talk my lemonade.”

Connor punches him in the arm twice. The first, for daining to call their sad, pathetic Saltines box a “cash register”; the second, for secretly stealing from their shared funds. The redhead admonishes Kevin, because he has to. Even if he's not really the district leader anymore, he still _unofficially_ holds the position. At least, he still does in his mind and no one's really had the guts to argue with him about it.

“That’s _stealing_ ,” Connor says pointedly, trying his best to scold the other man, but he knows damn well that he's practically grinning at this point.

“Hey, need I remind you that I _am_ the sole proprietor of Price’s Perfect(ly tangy) Lemonade?” Kevin says with an evil smile. _Evil._ “And with great responsibility comes great...abuse of power.”

Connor beams. He straight up _beams_ at this stupid boy. This stupid, genius of a boy. And he has to give the man some credit where credit is due—he sure does know how to break the rules like a champ. And maybe Connor thinks it's kind of sexy. Okay, maybe he thinks it's very, _very_ sexy.

 _“And,”_ Kevin holds up his hands. “In my defense, I only use it to buy candy for the unsatisfied customers. Namely, the children.”

Connor throws a wad of lemon peels in Kevin's face—he deserves it, after all—and they laugh and _laugh,_ until Arnold wanders over with the next batch of lemons for them to juice. Connor wants to tell Kevin how no one's ever made him laugh quite like that before. But he doesn't, of course.

 

* * *

 

They sell about ten lemonades on an average day, twenty on a good one and five or six on a bad one, which honestly isn’t terrible. But it's not enough for Kevin. This is now his baby, his pet project, his _empire,_ and he’s determined to make it the best it can possibly be. Which can only mean one thing: _expansion._

Eventually, they buy sugar again. And Kevin monopolizes it, of course, in the name of the business. They expand the stand to include an array of sweet delectables such as scones, cookies, and loaf bread. Despite that, Kevin insists on staying with the lemon theme, citing that it's given them nothing but good luck in the past. He changes the name to be “Price's Perfect Lemonade (and Snack Shack!)” now that they are no longer forced to make it “tangy” and their customer base grows. After a few weeks go by, Connor even admits to Kevin that the idea was pretty good. _Pretty_ good. He doesn't want to inflate Kevin's ego more than it already is and he certainly doesn't want to jinx their newfound good luck. Especially now that they can afford beef again. Things are good, Connor thinks. They have food, shelter, and each other. They even can afford to buy things like candy and wine, every now and again.

 

* * *

 

Their luck runs out when a monsoon hits.

And it hits on the worst day possible, too. Kevin’s drunk. Drunk because they’re in the middle of celebrating Arnold’s twentieth birthday. They’re having a party—an actual _party_. It’s the first party they’ve had since being ex-communicated from the church and Kevin put out all the stops for his best friend’s birthday bash. They have balloons and streamers and tons of food and alcohol (too much alcohol, Connor thinks). They have a homemade pinata, courtesy of Nabulungi, and Connor even made Arnold a special birthday cake shaped like Golem from _Lord of the Rings_. It was supposed to be a spectacular day filled with good food, good drinks and good friends.

They all run inside when the storm hits. They lose electricity almost immediately and Connor is scrambling, trying to find candles and a lighter in order to illuminate their hut until they can restore power. They all huddle together in the living room for a while, surrounded by worry and half-drunk Elders and a wet cake that no longer remotely resembles Golem and impatiently wait out the storm.

The next day, after getting absolutely no sleep (because he's a worrier), Connor gets up earlier than everyone else to go out and survey the damage. And there is a _lot_ of damage. Connor’s heart breaks in half when he goes up to the end of their little dirt road and finds their carefully-crafted lemonade stand in shambles. His heart breaks for the Elders, since everyone had put in such a great deal of effort into making their stand a success. But, more than anything, his heart breaks for Kevin.

He doesn’t want to tell Kevin. He would rather do anything else in the whole world than tell Kevin. But he knows he has to. As he stands there, sadly picking up the wet, broken pieces of their little sign, he notices that a lot of trees had fallen in the road, the wind having knocked them down. He worries that their lemon tree may have also gotten damaged (though he hopes and _prays_ it hasn't), so he walks about a mile to Gotswana's. He sneaks in the back and there it is—the lemon tree. Only, now, it’s snapped in half, laying on the ground in an unceremonious heap of broken wood and smashed lemons.

Connor cries a little. He can't help it. And he can't even pinpoint exactly _why_ he's crying. It’s only a lemon tree, after all. They'll survive. They'll find other ways of making money. After all, they have sugar now. They can sell baked goods and maybe they’ll even find another refreshment to peddle. But it just won't be the same. Connor knows it won't. Maybe that's why he's crying. Or maybe he just really, _really_ doesn’t want to tell Kevin.

 

* * *

 

Kevin takes it harder than Connor ever thought he would. Mainly because Kevin is the king of bouncing back after a setback and Connor had honestly expected him to bounce back a bit quicker.

But it's been two days now and Kevin hasn’t bounced back. He hasn't been getting dressed or even getting out of bed, for that matter. He just sulks and drinks leftover palm wine from Arnold’s party. It hurts Connor, to watch Kevin fall apart like this over a _lemon tree_ , of all things. But he supposes that, to Kevin, it wasn’t _just_ a lemon tree that he’d lost, but his reason to get up in the morning. Kevin hasn’t smiled that irresistible Kevin Price smile in days now and Connor decides he doesn’t like a sad Kevin. Not one bit. Because a sad Kevin is one who doesn't smile and doesn’t laugh and eats alone in his room, sulking. So, doing what Connor does best in times like these, he takes charge and decides to fix it. He tells himself he's doing this for the Elders, for the good of the group, but deep down, he knows he's only doing it for Kevin.

Connor rounds up the troops and gives everyone tasks to do. They’re going to build a new stand. What they would sell is still in question, but whatever it ends up being, he knows they’ll need a stand at least. It takes only one day to build, with the help of all the Elders, plus some of the villagers. Kevin has no idea what everyone else is doing outside and he doesn’t seem to care.

The stand is completed now and Connor sets out to find something they could use to make refreshments, like the lemons. He finds out about an orange tree about a mile away, near Mafala's hut in the center of the village. The tree belongs to a Mister Kalimbi and Connor makes him a deal— twenty percent of the profits from the orange juice sales and use of their hut’s telephone once a week (it's the only working telephone in the village, after all).

Two days later, Price still shows no interest in the new stand and continues to sulk, alone in his bedroom, like the child he can be sometimes. Connor decides he's had enough and comes up with one last ditch idea to try and cheer him up. Because, even though he doesn’t want to admit it, he cares a great deal about Kevin Price. And not only because Kevin has such striking good looks and a warm, inviting smile (though, those qualities of Kevin’s do serve to do some… _other_ things to Connor’s hormonal brain). But, no, he really does care about Kevin and he isn’t quite sure why. Maybe it’s because he knows that Kevin is a good person. Maybe it’s because Kevin seems to care about Connor right back. Maybe it's that playful little _sparkle_ in his eyes. Or maybe it’s something else, entirely.

“Knock knock,” Connor says as he taps lightly on the door to Kevin and Arnold’s room, five days after the monsoon had hit and two days after the new stand was up and running.

“Go away, Elder McKinley,” Kevin sighs. The brunette is laying in his bed in just his temple garments, a half-drunk cup of black coffee on his nightstand, like a sad, dejected boy whose girlfriend just broke up with him. Connor doesn’t often go into Kevin’s bedroom, so he's more than a little bit surprised to find a teddy bear next to Kevin’s pillow. _Kevin Price has a teddy bear._ Connor doesn’t know why, but he finds that fact terribly endearing.

“Not today, Elder Price,” Connor says cheerfully as he sits down at the edge of Kevin’s bed. “Today, I have a surprise for you.”

Kevin looks up and raises a skeptical eyebrow. “A surprise?”

“Yes,” Connor nods. “For you. But it does require you to get up and put on some pants.”

“Then no thanks,” Kevin mumbles and leans his cheek back into his pillow.

“Hey now,” Connor says soothingly and gives him a playful punch right in the shoulder. “What do you always say, huh? When life hands you lemons, you—,” he prods, holding up his hands in the air with a smirk on his face, the way Kevin always used to. Kevin doesn’t look like he’s going to answer, so Connor tries again. “What do you do?” He presses, but Kevin just glares at him. A straight up _death_ glare. But Connor can tell he actually wants to smile—it’s there, he can see it, peeking out ever so slightly, tugging at his bottom lip—but he’s holding out, just to make a point. “Too soon?”

“ _Way_ too soon,” Kevin says glumly and turns away, in favor of recoiling further into his mattress. Connor sighs. It’s time to get emotional, he guesses, since humor _clearly_ isn’t working.

“We’ve been through so much here, Kevin” Connor says, hesitantly placing a hand on Kevin’s shoulder. “Weeks of only eating yams, watching the general terrorize the villagers, getting kicked out of the Church we’ve belonged to our entire lives, disappointing our parents, dealing with real life things that have real life consequences,” Connor swallows hard, trying his best not to get choked up. “And despite all that, you’ve always managed to keep your head held high and shrug it off and keep going. Yet, here you are, falling apart over a lemon tree.”

Kevin sighs. He looks as though he knows Connor’s right, but that there's more to the story. “It wasn’t _just_ a lemon tree.”

“It wasn't,” Connor muses for a moment. “Okay, then what was it?”

Kevin shrugs. “My pride. My dignity. My sense of self-worth.”

“You got all that out of a lemon tree?”

Kevin nods and snuggles deeper into the bed.

“Well, then you’re in luck,” Connor smirks and reaches out a hand, beckoning him to take it. “Come with me. I have a feeling you’ll like this surprise.” Realizing that Kevin is still not dressed, he pulls his hand back with a blush and adds, “but first, put on some pants.”

“Do I have to?” Kevin groans, like a child who’s just been told to clean up his room.

“Yes,” Connor says, giggling a little at how adorable Kevin looks, laying there like that, complaining about putting on _pants._ “You have to.”

 

* * *

 

He leads Kevin out into the yard and brings him into what is now a brand new fenced-in area.

“There,” Connor points to a small little seedling on the ground with a smile.

“What is it?” Kevin asks, looking as though he’s already regretting ever putting on his pants for _this._

“It’s your pride and dignity, just waiting for you to tend to it,” Connor says, and he knows he's teasing Kevin a little, but he just can't help it. It's too easy.

Kevin’s eyes widen as he kneels down and trails a tender finger over the tiny little leaves. “Wait, is this—”

“A lemon tree,” Connor finishes for him. “ _Your_ lemon tree.”

“But this’ll take _years_ to grow. We’re only here for one more.”

Connor shrugs. “True, but it’s the best I could do. Do you like it?”

Kevin looks at him for a long moment. Really, _really_ looks at him. It's making Connor uncomfortable because he's having trouble reading the expression on Kevin's face. It’s one he hasn’t seen before.

“I love it,” Kevin says eventually and looks down for a while at the tiny little seedling. They're quiet for a little while until Kevin finally breaks the silence with a doozy of a question. “Connor?” He asks, hesitantly, using Connor’s first name for the very first time. “Why do you treat me differently than everyone else?”

The directness of the question catches the redhead totally off guard. A breath hitches in his throat and he freezes. “What—what do you mean?”

Kevin stands up and smiles. But not his big, wide, flashy smile. No, this one is a soft, small, secret smile that Connor somehow _knows_ is one that Kevin’s never given to anyone else. It’s a special smile—one that Kevin had just invented, for Connor.

“You treat me different,” Kevin says again, moving slowly into Connor’s personal space. The redhead backs up a bit, frightened now, as Kevin tends to act very unpredictable sometimes and Connor isn't sure what will happen if he lets Kevin come too close. “Like I'm special or something,” he elaborates.

“I do not,” Connor tries to spit, but it just comes out sounding terribly unconvincing. Damn his mother for teaching him not to lie. It's turned him into the most awful liar on the planet.

“Yes, you do,” Kevin says, not backing down, because Kevin never backs down, from anything.“Why?”

Connor stammers and stumbles over his words. He isn’t sure what to say, so he doesn’t say anything.

“Want to know what I think?” Kevin says with a bigger smile now. It's still a smile reserved just for Connor, but more playful and happy and stupidly knowing, as though he knows so many things that Connor doesn’t.

“What’s that?” Connor asks nervously as he stumbles back, nearly tripping over the tiny fence at his feet.

And then Kevin kisses him. It's wet and inexperienced and clunky and it takes Connor completely by surprise. He just stands there for a moment, stunned. Stupid Kevin. Stupid, _amazing,_ unpredictable Kevin. But, after a moment, Connor gives in and wraps his arms around the brunette’s waist, pulling him closer. He can feel Kevin’s hands moving steadily up and down his back, in a calming motion, silently letting him know that this is _okay,_ that it's okay to _want_ this. And, even then, with their lips locked together and tongues gliding over and under and every which way, Connor _still_ finds himself annoyed. Annoyed because Kevin Price was right, once again.

And Connor can't help it—he moans into Kevin's mouth, helplessly and without restraint. He supposes that, now, he might actually have the courage to tell Kevin all of those things he’s been keeping a secret. And, today, he thinks, might just be the perfect day for that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you want me to write a ficlet for you, send me a prompt on Tumblr @elderkevinmckinley.


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